The party was a blur of expensive perfume and fake smiles. As Areum and Yoongi finally broke away from their meddling fathers, they headed toward the back of the ballroom.

"You look stiff," Yoongi muttered, leaning against a marble pillar. He wasn't looking at the crowd; he was looking at her. "The 'Princess of Aura' looks like she's wearing a costume that's two sizes too small."

Areum smoothed her silk dress, feeling the weight of the diamonds at her neck. "It's called being a daughter, Yoongi. You should try it sometime."

"I am trying it. That's why I'm standing here instead of in my studio," he retorted. He reached out, his fingers briefly brushing the air near her head. "And this hair? It's too much. You look better with the messy ponytail and the smudge of flour on your cheek. This version of you looks like she's waiting for a command."

Areum felt a flush that had nothing to do with the wine. "It's a gala, not a shift at the shop."

"Same thing," Yoongi shrugged, nodding toward the buffet. "Don't touch the salmon, by the way. My father's people handled the catering, and the sea bass is the only thing worth eating. The rest is just for show."

"I like the salmon," she lied, just to be difficult.

"Liars don't get refills on their coffee," he teased, a rare, genuine spark in his eyes before he turned to leave.

That night, the mansion was too quiet. Areum sat on the edge of her mother's bed, the weight of the week finally crashing down. The silk of her dress felt heavy, a reminder that her "real" life was miles away from this marble fortress.

After years, she felt at peace when she got to discuss her current life with her mother.

"I'm a mess, Mom," she whispered. "Namjoon is... he's turning into someone I don't recognise. He's mean. Jin is my best friend, but I'm afraid I'll break him. And Yoongi..." She paused, thinking of his sharp eyes. "He's the only one who doesn't care about the money, but he's so difficult."

Her mother brushed a stray hair from Areum's face. "Love isn't a business deal, Areum. You don't choose the one who looks best on a resume."

"Then how do I choose?"

"You don't choose the person you can live with," her mother said softly. "You choose the one you can't imagine living without. Some men will try to heal you because they want to feel powerful. Some will try to build you because they want to own you. But the right one? He'll just stand in the fire with you and tell you when the coffee is burnt."

Areum lay back against the silk pillows, staring at the ceiling. Her mind was a map of three men.

She thought of Jin first. He was her history—warm and safe. But that was the problem. He always let her be the boss. He never pushed back. Choosing Jin felt like choosing to stand still.

Then there was Namjoon. Thinking of him made her skin crawl. After tonight, his "clinical" advice felt small and fake. He didn't want a partner; he wanted a case study.

And then, there was Yoongi.

Just thinking his name made her heart race. He didn't want to fix her; he wanted to fight with her. He didn't see a princess; he only cared about the girl who stood behind the espresso machine.

She reached for her phone. She looked at a message from Namjoon—more toxic, cold "help." She felt a sudden, sharp clarity. She didn't need a doctor or a knight. She needed someone who wasn't afraid to tell her when she was wrong.

She typed a reply to Yoongi, her heart thumping.

Areum: You're wrong about the sea bass. But you're right about the hair. I'll see you at the shop, Chef. Bring your own soap—you're still on dish duty.

She hit send and closed her eyes. The world might think she was crazy for picking the guy who insulted her, but they didn't see what she saw: the only man strong enough to let her be powerful.